


The Forever You Would Crawl To

by Oaklin



Series: Forever Everything [93]
Category: International Wrestling Syndicate, Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: 'Home' with a Capiatal H, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Purple Prose, Swearing, also the sometimes abusive and easily corrupted effect some wrestlers Trainers have on them, bby!Steen and his massive issues, eludings to the shaky relationships between shady promoters and their wrestlers, imma up the rating, man the issues in this, obligatory Jacques Rougeau warning, obligatory Kevin Steen warning, requisite shitting-on-Rougeau warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-03 19:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14576025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oaklin/pseuds/Oaklin
Summary: The two of them have come so far, for so long. Whatever lay at the end of this Forever, they crawl on, determined to see this to the end.





	The Forever You Would Crawl To

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello!
> 
> Christ. My weekend did not start so well, but we carry on! This particular part just popped up outta nowhere. I was gonna head on into the CZW arch, but their baby days are such a jumbled mess. I am learning all sorts of things about pacing, and character spacing, and internal narratives though, so trial by fire and all that. I don't know exactly how to section out the different pieces and parts of their multiple (simultaneous!) stories from this time period, but I will try my best. Prepare yourself for even more of a mess, is what I am getting at.

His breath hitches painfully through his throbbing chest as he trudges unsteadily down the longest hallway of his life. The very walls themselves seem to be spinning around him, the floor slanted at an unnatural angle that sends searing pain right into his aching skull. He tries to breath through the unpleasantly heavy feeling in his gut, but the flickering, bug-filled fluorescent lights that dangle precariously above him send nauseating cream-colored shadows across his eyelids. Even when he closes his eyes, hoping for relief, all he finds is more pale darkness, the eerie tinge of sepia permeating even the confines of his mind, as if to torture him.

(nowhere is safe)

(fuck)

He lurches along some more, unsure where exactly he is going, but determined to get there before he loses consciousness. He feels a desperation rising in him, a persistent need to feel warmth and light, but he cannot seem to coax his sluggish, unresponsive body into moving faster than a crawl, that soon has him wanting to rip his own hair out in frustration.

Never has a single hallway seemed so terminally endless, the stained tile and bare walls stretching out before him, the creaking of the light tubes barely contained in the ceiling filling him with dread. The world around him seems to be darkening, which is mildly alarming, even in the detached, numb state that he is in. The sickening, pale hue everything had, just a few heartbeats ago (how long has it been since he left the ring? where is he? who is he trying so desperately to reach?) has now bled into a hazy mess of greys and browns. The dull colors seem to shift as he moves, fading from dark to darker, the edges of his vision clouding like has a film over his eyes. He attempts to reach up and wipe it away, but his hand comes away startlingly crimson, the first splash of color he has seen in what feels like several lifetimes, stark in this hallway of nightmares.

He drops his hand and soldiers on.

_ -should probably get that looked at- _

(lotta doctors in this  **empty hallway)**

_ -smartass- _

_ -awful clever for a brain damaged failure like you- _

(only ever failed at the things that didn’t matter)

_ -shut up- _

_ -voices up ahead- _

He can indeed hear voices, wafting softly from some room up ahead, he is not sure which one exactly. He zeros in on it regardless, as he can practically feel those light, melodious tones, wrapped in summer breezes and delighted laughter. He stumbles, hitting the wall harder than is probably good for his aching shoulder, but he refuses to stop. He drags himself along the wall, his vision tunneling, a giggle filtering to his ears like a soft gust of rain ripe spring wind, that lilt just the right frequency to snap him fractionally out of his stupor.

“Fuck, someone open the bastard door. I’m dying out here.”

There is a tense pause in the clamoring from inside the staff-room-turned-locker-room, so Kevin waits as patiently as he can, resting his pounding head against the wall beside the door, his forehead burning against the sticky drywall. A soft gasp filters to his ringing ears from the tiny sliver in between the door and the door frame, the sound echoing through his skull, pealing off the insides of his cranium until all he can hear is the wistful melodies of That Voice.

_ -man- _

_ -you are such a fucking goner- _

(fuck you)

(also yeah)

(probably)

(...but fuck you)

“Sami,” a grating, wilted voice utters, the sound low and haggard, like the speaker is falling through a tube and the sound is getting swallowed up by some sort of herculean wind. Kevin cringes, wondering what the fuck sort of poor, pathetic fuck would embarrass themselves like that, just come right out a wail like a needy infant for someone's attention.

As if all the dignity had been drained from the speaker, in their intense desire for-

(who the fuck would be calling out for Sami like that, anyway?)

(all he does is fuck things up)

(never helpful)

(so whoever that is is going to get the taste slapped out of their mouth when I find them)

(for their own good)

_ -you are so goddamn stupid that I don’t even know what to say anymore- _

“Hey! Easy, easy, I’ve got you.”

Kevin snorts, the sound scraping his already raw throat, his legs giving out under him as Sami’s pale little fingers wrap themselves steadily around his chest. He is surprised by the strength in Sami’s grip, enough that he manages to hoist himself up, the two of them shuffling into the room, Kevin getting dumped onto a ratty couch that has probably seen it’s fair share of illicit affairs. He grimaces, but can’t find the strength to move, so he just teeters there, watching Sami bustle over to a makeshift cooler, pulling out a water bottle with one hand while he rifles through a duffel bag with the other.

“Sami.” That voice again, jagged and lonely and pleading. Kevin grits his teeth against the **_need_** bubbling up inside of him, and wonders if whoever is speaking knows what a jackass they sound like.

_ -probably- _

(sounds like they have a codependency problem)

_ -you don't say- _

_ -now that you mention it, it also sounds a **lot** like one Kev- _

(shut up)

_ -chickenshit- _

“I’m here! What happened? Doesn't matter I guess. Painkillers?” Kevin closes his eyes and listens to Sami babble incomprehensibly, Sami’s voice harried and strained, his breath labored as if he is the one who is injured and in distress. To be fair, Sami does seem to be reacting as if he is in physical pain, Kevin’s predicament and ragged condition sending Sami into some sort of panicked holding pattern.

“Sure,” Kevin mutters belatedly, shifting on the stiff cushions underneath him. Sami doesn’t even acknowledge the utterance, just continues puttering around the room, ducking under a bemused Franky’s arms to snatch a pill bottle off of the table, before dancing around Lu to grab a towel off of a nearby bench.

“Stop nesting. I’m fine. Just tired,” Kevin winces at how unconvincing his own words sound, grimacing as he trails off into a cough, his throat unappreciative of all this unauthorized usage.

Sami doesn’t bother to call him out on such an obvious lie, he just slides over, his bare feet slapping obnoxiously against the tile floor. Kevin inhales sharply, crystallized sunlight filling his lungs as Sami leans down, stretching his lanky body out across Kevin’s, bracing a hand on Kevin's chest and pressing the other to his forehead. “Sure, Kevin. Here, I brought ice and aspirin. Tell me where it hurts.”

_ -excuse the fuck out of  _ **_this_ ** _ little shithead- _

(god damn it)

_ -seriously?- _

Sami’s weight is heavier than he expected, as if the concern in Sami’s voice and the tenderness in his eyes adds another twenty pounds to his bony little frame. The oppressive significance of that gaze though, the one that is all gentle empathy and tentative support, seems to leaden Kevin down with a bigger burden than he believes that he can bear. He also can’t seem to rid himself of the pressure either, whether that is by his choice or Sami’s, Kevin can’t be bothered to figure out. So he just does what feels  _ good _ (and maybe even  **right,** if there is such a thing between them) and reaches up, clasping Sami’s pale, sticky fingers in his own, pressing both of their shaking hands to Kevin’s own racing heart, breathing in the  **Home** that sticks to  **_him_ ** like sweat to his back during a particularly heated match.

“Everywhere, Sami. It hurts  _ everywhere.” _

* * *

“Is he always so fucking dramatic? I always wondered what became of the snarling little bastard that I knew back in the day. You sure did a number on him. Domesticated the shit out of this feral badger of a boy.” Lu snarks, a laugh in her voice as she takes a swig of he diet something-or-other.

Sami sighs, wringing out the cloth he had used to mop up the blood from his best friend’s scalp. He glances over to the man in question, Kevin’s slumped form sagging on the dilapidated couch, his eyes closed, his hand still poised, dramatically clutching at nothing now that Sami hand reluctantly moved away.

“I mean…”

“That would be a yes, my dear lady,” Franky says with a chuckle, and the two of them clink their diet-whatevers together in celebration of their joined mocking of an injured man.

Sami remains passive and unimpressed with their antics, snapping his makeshift washcloth at them. “Not funny. Leave him alone. He had like three matches tonight. He didn’t even want to be here, it was this or that CZW gig.”

“Unwelcome in the pig pen, so he comes crawling back to the barn. Very nice, Steen,” There is a disconcerting edge to Lu’s voice as she speaks, her eyes trained on Kevin, her gaze hard to read. Sami bristles without meaning to, but relaxes slightly at Franky’s hand on his shoulder.

Sami remains defensive, but allows himself to loosen his protective impulses just a bit. Lu and Kevin have known each other a long time after all, longer than Sami and Kevin have known each other even, so-

“We both crawled out of the same barn, Lucifer. Or, well, the same farmyard anyway. Just because you ran away to the next trash heap over first, doesn’t mean that you didn’t track Rougeau’s shit everywhere behind you.”

Sam blinks, the current conversations leaving him bereft, even as he tries to follow it. Franky looks uncharacteristically awkward, looking down and scratching at the table top, like he would rather be anywhere else but here in this room while the present discussion is happening.

“I scrapped that muk off of my ring boots five years ago, Steen. Not that you know anything about letting the past go,” Lu says, with a nod in Sami’s direction that confuses him even more. Kevin stiffens, and while the edge to Lu’s voice is definitely quieter, it now seems even more serrated.

Sami honestly can’t tell if this is real anger, or one of those weird, combative relationships that Kevin seems to have with nearly everyone.

“I don’t know about _that,_ **Precious** ,” Kevin bites out through gritted teeth, the word sounding rough and almost like an insult when he says it. Lu takes it like one too, her face twisting and her eyes glittering dangerously with something dark and sharp that has Sami backing up and away from the two, before something erupts and someone gets hurt.

“Kevin-” Sami starts, trying to calm the situation, though at the moment he is sorely tempted to leave Kevin to his fate.

-Harsh-

If he can get himself into these situations, then he can get himself out of them as well.

-Kevin couldn't wrangle his way out of anything, much less an awkward social situation-

You want me to save him?

-...maybe-

“But we both made our choices, yes?” Kevin cuts in, dragging Sami out of his thoughts with his usual disregard for Sami’s level of attentiveness. Sami looks up, blinking, startled when he locks eyes for a brief moment with his partner, Kevin eyes focused on Sami, for some reason, instead of Lu.

Kevin looks away when Sami looks up though, returning his gaze to his old friend, their eyes meeting and some of the stilted, tense displeasure melting into something like understanding between estranged blood brothers. The volatile air seeps away, the room temperature returning to normal as the aggression notches down in direct response to the two of them coming to some silent, mutual agreement.

Sami tries not to be  **too** jealous at their obvious attunement to each other.

“Indeed,” Lu says, her voice losing the dangerous edge as she laughs freely, bumping her knuckles against Kevin’s with shared grins, that are as natural as Sami has ever seen, on either of their faces, “We did pretty good for ourselves, given the circumstances.”


End file.
